Draco stood frozen in the hallway of the Manor, his father’s words still echoing in his mind.

“V0ldemort has declared it—she’s de4d.”

His heart stopped. His hands began to tremble, and for a moment, the world around him seemed to tilt.

No, it can’t be true, he thought. But the weight of the words suffocated him.

Without another second to spare, Draco turned and ran. His footsteps echoed through the vast corridors of the manor as he dashed from one room to the next. Panic consumed him—his thoughts were a blur, a storm of confusion and disbelief. He couldn’t—he wouldn’t—accept that you were gone.

His breath came in short gasps as he skidded to a halt in front of one of the many grand mirrors in the manor. His reflection was wild—eyes wide, hair disheveled—but before he could even think about what he was seeing, he heard a faint sound that stopped him in his tracks.

A soft noise, like a rustling of fabric, followed by the familiar sound of your voice.

Draco turned, heart pounding, eyes darting through the dimly lit room. And there you were.

You.

Standing in front of him as if nothing had happened, as if the world hadn’t just torn itself apart. You were alive.

The air around him seemed to crackle, and before he even realized it, Draco was moving, no longer in control of his own body. His feet flew across the room, and then, with a force he couldn’t explain, he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you tightly against him.

He could hardly breathe, his tears mingling with the fabric of your clothes. He was trembling, his sobs shaking his chest as he held you close, afraid that if he let go, you would disappear again.

“I thought I lost you,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “I thought you were… I thought they… they told me—”

You held him just as tightly, your arms around him a silent reassurance. Your fingers ran through his hair, soothing him.

"Draco, look at me," you whispered softly. "I'm not de4d," you murmured. "I'm here. V0ldemort made me fake my de4th. I won't leave you."